Deep breaths, Travis. Take deep breaths, close your eyes, and pinch yourself so you know this isn’t another twisted dream. Open your eyes.

He’s still there. Every atom of my body is screaming at me to turn one hundred and eighty degrees, and sprint down the road after Ben’s car. Instead, I sink down into the chair across from Garen, and fold my arms across my chest to keep myself from crumbling to pieces.

“So,” he says, running his forefinger around the lip of his coffee mug, “how are you?”

I’m dying, I want to say. I was fine until today, fine until I had to remember you, but now that you’re here sitting in front of me, I am falling apart. You’re a horrible person, and you left me alone at the worst possible time, just because things started going bad for you. You are selfish and spoiled and I hate you. I hate you for going away, and I hate you for coming back, and if you somehow managed to disappear off the face of the earth, I would probably hate you for that, too. I will hate you for the rest of my life, whether you are here or not, whether you are my brother or my lover, whether you are alive or dead.

“I fucked Ben,” is what comes out instead.

Garen flinches so hard that some of the coffee sloshes out of his mug and onto the polished tabletop. In less than a second, though, his smile is back in place, even if it looks a little forced. “So did I. This town has a great way of welcoming newcomers. He’s a fucking animal in the bedroom, isn’t he?”

Before I am even aware of what I’m doing, I curl my hand around his mug and bring my fist down hard on the table. Garen doesn’t even move to shield himself from the shards of ceramic and waves of scalding hot coffee that spray everywhere. Bree lets out an involuntary shriek of surprise, and James jumps.

“Don’t talk about him that way. He’s my goddamn boyfriend, and if you ever say something like that again, I’ll beat the shit out of you,” I say. Garen simply shrugs.

“Fair enough,” he says. He glances down and flicks a piece of the mug off his sleeve. “How was the wedding?”

“It was great. Really beautiful. I’m really happy for Mom and… Dad.” Calling Bill “Dad” makes me want to vomit, but it’s worth it to see the way Garen winces.

“If it was so beautiful, why did James and Bree just get through telling me you completely bailed on the reception?” he asks. I stay silent, and he laughs without humor. “Don’t worry. James gave the best man’s speech, actually.”

I glance at James, who shrugs helplessly and digs into his pocket for the piece of paper he was clutching during the ceremony. I take it from him and flip it open. On behalf of my father and his new wife, thank you all for coming today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there myself, it begins.

“He dictated it to me over the phone last night and asked me to read it for him,” James says. Without another word, I tear the paper in half and let the piece fall to the floor.

“Everything Garen has to say is meaningless,” I say, “because he’s a liar. He only tells people what he thinks they want to hear. He only says anything good because it gets him what he wants.”

Garen is on his feet in an instant, circling the table and twisting me towards him, his hands digging into my shoulders.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he says. For the first time today, there is actual anguish in his voice. “You know I loved you. And you know I still do. I came back for you, Travis, and I know you’re mad at me, but it doesn’t have to be like this. W-We can pick up where we left off, I promise we can—”

“There are two problems with that scenario, though,” I say, raising one finger into the air. “First of all, I have a boyfriend. One who isn’t my stepbrother, who doesn’t make out with his ex-flings behind my back, and who doesn’t break up with me the second people start to give him funny looks.” I raise another finger. “And second of all, I fucking hate you, and hope you die.”

“Travis,” Bree says sharply. I shrug. If she expects me to take it back, she is going to be extremely disappointed.

After several moments of aching silence, Garen releases my shoulders and steps back. “Alright, then. It was worth a shot.” He is out of the room before I even realize he’s walking away.

“Great job, asshole,” James snarls at me, then bolts after his best friend. Bree and I stare at each other, both of us listening to the thud of feet on stairs and the slam of a bedroom door. I stand slowly, if only for something to do. Bree takes one hesitant step towards me, then another. I half-expect her to hug me, and am already preparing to push her away, when I hear a loud whack and realize the noise is her palm connecting with the side of my face.

“Jesus, Bridget!” I exclaim, blinking away the stars that are suddenly clouding my vision. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I cannot believe you said that to him, you piece of shit!” she hisses, shoving me backward a few steps. “I am so ashamed to call you my brother right now. You’re a fucking terrible human being.”

“Me? He’s the one who abandoned me and then comes crawling back three months later, expecting to be welcomed with open arms,” I say.

“That’s such a lie. He didn’t ‘abandon’ you. Do you not even pay attention to what other people say? His dad stood right where you’re standing now, and he said ‘Get out of this house, I don’t care where you go, get out.’ Garen didn’t choose to leave; he got kicked out. Or do you not even remember the day he left?”

“I remember it every second of every day,” I snarl. “I remember running upstairs after him and packing my bags to leave with him, and I remember him telling me it was over and that he didn’t want me to come with him. I remember calling him over and over and over again, begging him to come back. I remember waiting for some form of contact – any form of contact – and getting shit. So don’t act like he’s the one who was wronged here.”

“But he’s the one who came back for you. He didn’t know you had started dating again, but the second he found out he might have lost you for good, he came back here to see you,” Bree said. “That makes him really fucking brave.”

“It makes him selfish!” I yell, and for a moment, the voices upstairs cease.

“Fine,” Bree says flatly. She shoves her hand into my jacket pocket and stuffs my cell phone into my hand. “Then call your boyfriend and tell him that Garen’s back, but it makes no difference. I want to see your face when you swear to him that Garen means nothing to you.”

I dial the phone wordlessly, and Bree crosses her arms across her chest, waiting.

“Hey,” Ben picks up on the third ring. I can hear the smile in his voice, the flush on his skin.

“Can you come over?” I ask. There’s a beat of silence, and when he speaks again, his voice is wary.

“I really hope that you’re inviting him over so that you can break up with him,” Bree says, leaning back against the counter.

“What is your problem, Bree? A week ago, you thought Ben was great for me. You thought he was fucking amazing, you were so proud of me for moving on,” I say.

“Because a week ago, I didn’t know what your face would look like when you saw Garen again,” Bree retorts. “You’re still in love with him. I don’t care what you say. Before you started breaking cups and screaming, you fucking melted. I saw it. James saw it. Garen saw it. Stop denying it.”

“The fact that I love him doesn’t mean I can’t hate him, too,” I say before I can stop myself. I expect Bree to look triumphant at my confession, but she just looks tired.

We wait in silence after that. I pick up all the pieces of the mug, and Bree wipes down the table with one of Mom’s tea towels. I am on the floor, sopping up the last of the coffee, when Ben opens the front door without bothering to knock. He has already removed his coat, tie, and shirt, replacing them all with a plain black hoodie, zipped halfway up his chest.

“Hello?” he calls hesitantly.

“Garen’s back,” I say in reply. He does not turn towards where I’m sitting, but cocks his head to the side.

“You said he wasn’t coming back. You said you told him to stay away,” he says.

“Yeah,” is all I can manage. There is a crash from upstairs, followed by some yelling, and Bree darts past me up the staircase. Ben nods towards the second floor.

“I assume he’s upstairs?”

“Yeah.”

Without another word, he bolts up the stairs. I sprint after him, my heart starting to cave in. Nothing good can come from this confrontation. I grab Ben’s hand, but he wrestles away from me and bursts through the bedroom door. The first person I see is James, who is sitting with his legs folded in the center of the bed. His back is perfectly straight, and he is staring at the floor with a bland expression, as though he has been through too many of Garen’s tantrums to be particularly fazed by them anymore. Bree is perched on the edge of the desk, gnawing on a thumb nail and looking anxious. Finally, my eyes land on Garen. He is standing in one of the corners with his face against the wall, like a child who has been put in time-out. His rolling desk chair lies upended a few feet away, plainly having just been kicked across the room.

“Garen?” Ben says softly, and Garen groans.

“Not now. Please not now. If I have to see the happy little couple making out or something, I swear to God I’m going to throw up.”

“We’re not making out,” Ben says hoarsely. “I swear I’m not trying to upset you. I just want to talk to you. You… I haven’t heard from you in months. You didn’t call, or anything. You even called Alex, but you didn’t send me so much as a text message. You were one of my best friends, and I… missed you.”

Garen rotates slowly on the spot, glowering so hard I’m afraid Ben is going to burst into flames.

“Garen,” James says, his eyes focused on the loose thread he is busy pulling from the hem of his pants leg, “stop being such a Jewish princess and say hello to your friend.”

“How can he be my friend if he barely waited a month before he moved in on the only guy I ever really cared about?” Garen demands.

James stands and crosses the room in two strides. He slings an arm across Garen’s shoulders and says, “Stop it. You’re going to regret it if you say something stupid right now. So, swallow your pride, and say something to him.”

Garen looks Ben squarely in the face and says, “Bite me.”

James cuffs him around the head and shoves him back into the corner.

“Garen, stop it,” Ben says flatly. “You’re not the wronged party here, alright? Let’s just… let’s just stop and review the timeline, here. You moved to Lakewood. You slept with me. You blew me off, and started dating Travis. You two slept together. Your parents found out. You broke up with him and ran away. Travis and I started dating a month later. Your dad married his mom. You came back to town. Did I leave anything out?”

“Yes. You left out the part where I got kicked out. It wasn’t my choice. And you also left out the part where Travis was supposed to give a shit that I was gone. Even if all of the rest of it is true, you were my friend. You shouldn’t have moved in on him like you did,” Garen says.

This whole conversation is going nowhere. I am sick of this going in circles, and I am sick of them talking about me like I’m not even here. I grab Ben’s wrist and tow him out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me.

“I’m not going to break up with you. I need you to believe that,” I say. I wait until he nods to continue. “I wanted you to know he was back. I wanted you to see it for yourself, and I wanted you to see that… it’s not like it was before. He’s a different person, and so am I, and he and I are not getting back together. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“I think I should talk to him now. Make sure he understands that all, too. And I want you here, but I think it would be better if you weren’t. Just for right now,” I say.

After slight hesitation, Ben nods. “Alright. Will you text me later tonight? Just so I know what’s going on?”

“Of course. And I still want you to come over tomorrow, if you… you know, want to,” I say. He rocks up onto his toes and brushes his lips against mine.

“Call me when you wake up, and I’ll come right over,” he says.

I press another kiss to his forehead and say, “I love you.”

He nods, but heads downstairs without a word. I sigh and open Garen’s door once more. “I want to talk to Garen alone for a minute.”

Bree nods stiffly and leaves, though she pauses at my side and mutters, “At the end of the day, you will still have your job, your friends, your boyfriend, your family, your school, and your future. And at the end of the day, Garen will still not have anything. So, be careful. Don’t make me hate you.”

I watch her patter down the hall to her bedroom, then turn to face James expectantly.

“You’re insane if you think I’m leaving. He’s my best friend.”

“And there’s a guest room down the hall. Please shut the door behind you on your way out,” I say. James exchanges a brief look with Garen, then leaves without comment.

“This isn’t exactly the way I imagined things would go if I ever came back,” Garen says softly.

Something breaks inside of me. Before I can stop myself, before I can take a second to actually think about what I’m doing, I cross the room and sink into his arms, right where I’ve been wanting to be since he left. He buries his face against my neck and grips me so tightly I can’t breathe. Like I could breathe anyway; he still smells the same, still feels the same, even if he’s a little scrawnier than before, and everything is so fuzzy around the edges right now. I can’t remember if I love him, or if I hate him. I can’t remember if he’s my best friend, or the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I forget where I am, and who I am, and why I shouldn’t be here. He backs me up against the door, and I run my hands up and down his spine, trying to prove to myself that he is solid flesh, and not just some quality hallucination.

“Travis,” he says hoarsely, and I knot my fingers in his hair.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “It’s me. I’m here.”

He twist around and nudges me backwards onto his bed, wrinkling the sheets that James took care to smooth that morning. His weight on top of me is so familiar, so perfect, and I find myself clutching at his – my – sweatshirt, determined not to let him go.

And then he kisses me.

He tastes like coffee; his lips are soft; his tongue is hot and slick against mine. I slip a hand up under the back of his sweatshirt, digging my nails into his skin until he gasps, wanting us to be closer, closer, closer. This is how it should be, I think.

Suddenly, all I can see is Ben’s face. All I can hear is my own voice saying over and over, it’s not like it was before, it’s not like it was before, it’s not like it was before. Because it’s true. This is not my life anymore. This is not where my heart belongs anymore.

“Get off of me,” I say, rolling him off even as I say the words. I stand up, straightening my clothes, flattening my hair. When I glance back at Garen, he looks stunned.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asks. His dark green eyes are full of longing that makes my stomach churn. I can’t do this. Not to him, not to Ben, not to myself. I take a step back towards him and brush my palm across his cheek.

“That was your kiss goodbye. And that was all you will ever get from me. I’m saying this as plainly as I can, Garen. Leave me alone,” I say, and I stride out of the room, slamming the door shut behind myself.